


Solstice

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Bathing/Washing, M/M, PWP, Ritual Sex, Winter Solstice, self indulgent porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Castiel and Jack recharge Castiel's batteries on Winter Solstice. How, might you ask? How else? With a bath and hot sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice

Everything had a different flavour on Solstice Eve. A tang of danger, a little mystery; a knowledge that darkness was coming to stay tonight: this was a time of great potential and power for many practitioners. Castiel witnessed his share of pagan rituals as a part of Heaven. This night, he would enact his own.

He soaked in a deep recessed tub of steaming water. A bag of herbs soaked in the bath water, turning it a weak tea amber and laying a green perfume on the air. A thick candle sat in a metal bucket filled with salt on the lip of the tub; lit at the moment of sundown. It would burn through the night, still keeping watch long after they'd worn one another's bodies to exhaustion. And they would. Jack's life force was what fed Castiel's Grace, long after Heaven abandoned him to the planet's tender mercies. Twice a year at solstice, they came to this rite to reaffirm the connection and - as Jack put it - 'top off the tank.'

It had been a hard six months, Castiel thought, and sank a little deeper in the water. He'd looked forward to tonight all month with anticipation, enacting the necessary preparation rituals along the way with a growing slug of arousal each time. The point of the ritual was to open and clear him spiritually, as well as the bond, allowing Jack's excess energy to flow into him. To Castiel, born of a gregarious, almost incestuously close species, this was a single day of summer after cold months of autumn. He felt better, close to Jack. Tonight he would sleep - tonight they would both sleep.

Jack knelt beside him, chin-deep in the water, hands moving sleekly over Castiel's wet skin while they washed one another. The soap was heavy with frankincense, the holy resin drugging Castiel with its fragrance. He returned the attention, polishing quiet affection and loyalty into Jack's body like a balm. His skin smelled wonderful on its own, virile _indole_ coming through with the powerful pheromones no other human exhibited. The deep tug of it lured Castiel closer, as it connected to a primal part of his vessel. Or it connected to him. Castiel couldn't be entirely sure; the scent of Jack mixed with frankincense blurred his edges; quieted the endless cycle of self-examination.

Castiel ran his fingers lightly along the curve of Jack's hip to the point of it, then down the faint crease to reach his groin. He stirred the tight curls of dark hair there while Jack hissed, and let the heat of Jack's erection lie in his palm. Movements slowed by the water into a lazy dance, Jack pulled Castiel up and across his lap. He kissed the hollow of Castiel's throat, until Castiel could feel the faintest edge of their bond. It would get much deeper tonight. Much closer. He bowed his head back, fingers curled on Jack's shoulders.

"I am so grateful," Castiel sighed, half a prayer.

Jack's low chuckle echoed through him, filling him with its warmth.

They climbed out of the bath one at a time, Castiel first. He handed Jack up from the water, then wrapped him in one of the towels waiting by the edge. It wasn't often that the man submitted; willingly so even less frequently. They watched one another while Castiel worked, swabbing away the beads of fragrant water. He loved the way Jack carried himself, shoulders back and back straight as a soldier - or maybe a dancer. Or both. His belly was tender, soft to the press of Castiel's palm, as were the insides of his thighs. By contrast, Jack's hands were rough with work, fingers blunt, but gentle as they slipped over Castiel's body. His fingers fanned apart as Castiel's hands ran through Jack's, linking them together. Castiel led him to their bed tonight: a 'feather tick' on the floor nearby, layered with smooth white sheets and pillows in bright silk. Some of his own feathers were in the bed, tied with bundles of the same herbs in the bath.

"Ready, Castiel?" Jack asked in a whisper, eager fascination bright in his voice. He laughed, because the answer was obvious. 

Castiel knelt. As he settled, he felt the magic drawing close around him, and when Jack joined him it was akin to the sun on his skin. Castiel's body rose to meet Jack's fingers, wherever he touched, and every touch opened him further to the bond. He cried out, slow at first and then with more intensity, as Jack reached deeper into him. Nothing separated them now, not even skin.

He seemed to be having a similar effect on Jack. His eyes were dark, soft panting sounds releasing as they moved together. When Castiel's hand came to rest on his cheek, he bucked his head into the touch, eyes closed, vibrating minutely. He rolled Castiel over a moment later, fingers slick with oil plunging deep inside the angel. They rode one another hard after that, as if that act broke a barrier of restraint. Sweat rolled down their backs, and their spines arched, pushing into one another's hands and pulling away as they chased the pleasure that swelled between them. Jack wrung noises out of Castiel he hadn't known he could make, and if they murmured names of the cherished dead into one another's chests, as the night slowly faded into morning, they shared the secret in silence. When it was over, every ounce of energy spent, the angel and his captain slept in one another's arms as they did no other time. 

Castiel woke, feeling better than he had in months, to an offered cup of coffee and Jack's lazy smile. 

"To light over darkness," Jack toasted, clicking his mug against Castiel's, "I always forget how much I miss sleep."


End file.
